


Page 138

by murakistags



Series: Kofi Gift-Requests [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Mild Kink, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 13:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13952688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murakistags/pseuds/murakistags
Summary: A ko-fi gift-request forCrystal Lacy. Prompt: "Hannigram + edging or reading books together".I did something that involves both edging/orgasm denialandreading books. Because who here doesn't like both of those things?Alternatively titled: "Will Graham Cannot Read His Books In Peace Because His Cannibal Is Hungry".





	Page 138

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crystalusagi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalusagi/gifts).



> Here's a fic for Crystal! They're an amazing writer (support their beautiful romance works [here](http://crystal-lacy.com)!) and an even more amazing person with how kind and supportive they are. They also came up with this brilliant idea for us all to enjoy, so kudos for that alone. Thank you, Crystal, for buying me a coffee. It means a lot.
> 
> Not beta-ed; my apologies for any errors.
> 
> Bon appétit.

“Mm, hello.”   
  
“Hello.” Will answered before he’s even looked up. Hannibal has sat down upon his lap, on top of the blankets and all, appearing as content as a kid on the swings. Will allows it. At the close of a quiet day, it just about screams for Will to put his book down and pay attention. But he of course does neither, and continues to read.   
  
“You bought a new book today.” The comment is casual and comes a whole ignored minute later. Hannibal leans forward to peek down at the open pages. Half of his head not only blocks the page from Will’s view, but it also gently taps Will’s glasses out of place on his nose. Neither of those things is unintentional.   
  
“And I’m trying to read it. But your head is just—“   
  
Will raises a hand, palms the side of Hannibal’s face, and gives a small push. The whole gesture comes out looking definitely cuter and more comical than either man had intended.   
  
Hannibal blinks his beady eyes, disengaging from that palm so that he can nose into Will’s neck instead. He begins to kiss and lick there, paying the warm skin tender attention. Annoyingly, instantly, Will likes it. Wants it more than he wants to figure out what happens to Isles in the next chapter.   
  
“Hannibal…” Will groans halfheartedly, too comfortable to register any shame at how easily he’s giving in.   
  
Hannibal knows Will is wanting. He smells it. He feels it, of course, and fully seizes the opportunity. Suave, he plucks the book from Will’s hands and shuts it. He’s barely gotten it onto the nightstand before a noise of protest erupts.   
  
“You didn’t mark my page,” says Will, almost a childish whine.

 

The ends of his words fade into an affected grunt as Hannibal helps himself down and into his lap with a sinful grind. All the pressure and heat is pointedly meant to stir Will’s soft cock nestled into his navy cotton boxers. Meant to redirect attention from his head, to his...other head. It works. Hannibal’s grinding is powerful, and it only takes another two rolls of his hips for Will to entirely forget his annoyance about the lost page.

 

Will’s now-empty hands take ahold at the narrow of Hannibal’s waist, his fingernails dipping into fine cashmere. “You always do this,” he says up at his lover, a long breath indicating his growing arousal.

 

Hannibal doesn’t answer, only watching him with a dark need in his eyes. But he can feel that arousal physically, too. Will’s slowly thickening cock creates a firm ridge against which Hannibal’s balls grind. Through the warm layers of fabric, the friction is impossibly sexy. It frays dangerously at the edges of Hannibal’s control, but not quite enough yet for him to succumb to the beastly urge to shove Will down right then and there, and ride him hard until both of their legs go numb.

 

To the outsider, the sudden mischievous glint in Hannibal’s ochre eyes might indicate that he’d only just conjured up a very naughty thought. But Will knows better. He knows this whole scenario had been crafted out before Hannibal walked into their bedroom. Even if only seconds before his foot crossed the threshold, it had been thought of. Only thing left now is for Hannibal to see it through. Will, lazily reclining back against pillows propped to the headboard, is all too willing to play along.

 

“Suck me,” says Will. He again thrusts up and into the warmth between Hannibal’s thighs. Seeking.

 

“With pleasure.” Words like music send a noticeable shiver down Will’s body. That too gives Hannibal pleasure, makes his own length throb with need.

 

Hannibal efficiently crawls down the front of his body, leaving Will’s t-shirt untouched but peeling away thin blankets and boxers until Will is half-bare. His cock, heavy and fragrant, sits in a thatch of coarse dark curls. Like a prize, waiting to be snatched up. Hannibal, victorious, claims it with his mouth. He takes Will’s whole cock past his lips, swallowing him down to the very back of his throat without so much as a wrinkle, cough, or gag. Only those shining eyes, looking up to admire his lover.

 

Will, being admired, is in instant ecstasy. From his viewpoint propped above, with knees spread outward and bottoms of his feet pressing together, he is allowed the illusion of being devoured by this voracious cannibal. It is a thought which should, by all accounts of normalcy, be terrifying. Hannibal could bite and Will could do nothing about it. The thought alone spikes a strange heat in his groin, and makes his head fall back, eyes closing, with a loud moan.

 

While Will writhes and begins to quickly grow overheated, Hannibal sucks him harder, bobs his head, and lavishly employs the skilled strength of his tongue. He takes the weight of Will’s balls into his palm and massages firmly. A knuckle dips beneath, to a harder ridge of flesh just before the pucker of his entrance, and presses in.  _ Hard _ . Without even breaching the physical barrier to reach inside his lover, Hannibal is effectively milking him for every last drop.

 

“Ohhh, God.”

 

All other thought is an incoherent jumble for Will, his forehead aching with the tension of heavy breathes and coiled muscles. It’s only been a short few minutes of this. Of the wet sounds and whisper of shifting sheets, of the gasping and panting, and the groans of both men and the bed springs supporting them. Yet, in only that short time, Will’s cock has begun to leak, and he’s threatened to topple into his climax.

 

Hannibal is having none of that. Not yet, at least. He knows that Will is always eager for release, often hastening to it with as much fervour as when he catches sight of a grubby stray on the roadside. But at the first milky-salt trace of Will’s semen upon expert taste buds, the very first quivering clench of flesh against his hand, Hannibal withdraws entirely. He allows the cock to slips from his lips, swollen balls to hang without a groping touch.

 

Will jolts up suddenly with a harsh gasp and looks down to see Hannibal panting softly and propped on his elbows, only a thin string of saliva the remaining connection between his mouth and Will’s sex. He sounds much like a sailor betrayed by the sea, clawing for one last breath of air, and then convulsing at the cold, crying out with one curse after the next. But he does not orgasm, only skates around the edges of that feeling. Will’s hard cock, wet and red, sways with the hard contractions of his pelvic muscles teases right to that precipice. Only a tiny silvery line of cum slithers forth, a droplet down the engorged skin.

 

“Hannibal,” he cries, the noise woefully strangled. He is both stunned by his not-release and also practically begging for a real one.

 

“Hold it there, my cunning boy. Right there,” Hannibal whispers encouragingly, his voice hoarse. With a touch of pity, he presses an open palm to Will’s lower belly. A point to ground him, and o help him relax from that first rattling wave of near-climax.

 

Hannibal waits only long enough for the very edge of hunger to be curbed, in the meantime watching Will’s face prickle with sweat and his throat convulse with hard swallows. Then he is upon him again, unsated. With the flat of his tongue, Hannibal hungrily licks up dribbling pre-cum and helps himself to all of Will’s cock again. He takes it onto his tongue, sealing with a suck and hollow of his cheeks, and begins afresh. Round two.

 

This time, Will has fisted the sheets with both hands and is holding for dear life. The top of his head has slipped from the pillows and is uncomfortably pressing into the hardness of the headboard, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that his thighs are aching with how far apart he’s spread himself. Doesn’t care that a galaxy has erupted behind his eyes. That his lungs burn for air. That his heartbeat is fluttering into the tips of his fingers and toes. Nor does he give a single thought to how he’s arching so hard that his full weight is distributed only between his shoulders and lower back, and will make him sore for days to come. All Will wants is to find release.

 

Hannibal, again, brings him right to the door of orgasm. This time, allowing Will closer. Knocking on that door, even. Will’s hands shake and fly up in the last seconds before he comes, and desperately, blindly, attempts to grab Hannibal’s head and shove him down. To thrust up into that delicious mouth and spill himself down that tight throat. But Hannibal is swift, and Will is left to throb and whine painfully, his hands meeting nothing but heated, sex-scented air.

 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Will bursts out loudly, nearly echoing in the confined space with shameless need and frustration from again being denied his release. “I’m going to fucking kill you—”

 

But Will looks entirely incapable of killing anybody right then. At the moment, Will is entirely at Hannibal’s mercy, with hips thrusting upwards involuntarily and his cock bobbing untouched. Hannibal watches with immense desire and love, even while being threatened. He smiles. “How beautiful you are.”

 

This time, the third time, when Hannibal reattaches his pink, swollen lips to Will’s sex, he doesn’t hold back. It only takes a rocking motion of his jaw, two or three more seconds of sucking hard, then harder. Then Will is allowed, at long last, to release.

 

A scraping cry fills the room, Will’s hands forcing Hannibal’s head down into his crotch as he orgasms. It is blindly bright, more than ever before. His legs shake, his body genuinely convulses, and his mind turns into a steady hiss of static and white noise. Inhaling deep through his nostrils pressed into hairy skin, Hannibal swallows every last drop, savoring the familiarity of it. Even for long moments after Will is spent and slumped back bonelessly to the bed, hands fallen away, Hannibal continues to roll his tongue around the firm in his mouth. It’s over-sensitizing and though Will is lost and dazed in the cosmos, he manages to whimper a quiet demand of “Stop.”

 

Like a minx, Hannibal draws back and surveys the flushed, jelly-like exhausted ball of Will Graham has has created there. Teasingly almost, he takes the time to lift each heavy leg and slip back on Will’s boxers. The bulge of Will’s softening cock instantly creates a wet line across the dark fabric, and Hannibal catalogues the pretty sight in his Memory Palace. As he’d pulled them down before, he then draws back up the sheets to Will’s waist. Tucks them in, neatly. All the while Will is simply trying to breathe, keep his fluttering eyes open, and focus. He can manage approximately none of the above.

 

Hannibal climbs back over him and settles in comfortably. He pecks Will’s chapped lips, and then buries his face into the scruff along his jaw. There he hides his immensely smug and pleased smile, and listens to Will offering a tiny scowl to it. Will’s arm comes up and encircles Hannibal's body to him.

  
With a heavy, contented breath soaking into Will’s neck, Hannibal says quietly, “You were midway through page 138, by the way.”

 

A grumpy, sleep-addled, and utterly satisfied murmur in response: “...Remind me to kill you in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, don’t forget to leave kudos and comments. They inspire me and make me smile.
> 
> This fic was a ko-fi gift. Would you like to buy me a coffee, too? I’ll gladly write any request you may have, as a thank-you for your support. [Click here to buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/murakistags)


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